You can forget about going to Build-A-Bear or The Entertainer; trips to the hair shop were, for me, more exciting than both combined. The excitement of walking in with my mom and little sister with my freshly relaxed hair, awaiting the next set of beautiful braids was enough to keep me up the night before.
This was especially the case when my mom would tell me I’d get to choose what type of beads she’d add to the end. It would warrant my most angelic behavior in gratitude for the option to get round pink and blue glitter beads at the ends of my black box braids.
Over the years, I’ve become a hair connoisseur if you will, despite my non-existent cornrow skills. I’ve memorised the difference between the Xpression hair colours 613, 27 and 58, yaki versus straight hair and developed a strong understanding of the supremacy of pre-stretched extensions. I’ve purchased jar after jar of Ecostyler gel, replaced every mysteriously lost bonnet and spent hours debating hair dye colours at afro beauty shops.
It’s a bonding experience, a shared understanding between black girls passing by with their hoodies on, covering the partially finished box braids for which they’d run out of hair. It's the ability to turn to them as you bend down to reach a product asking, “have you ever tried this before?” and getting an instant expert opinion on which edge control has the best hold.
Whilst stores like Asda carry afro hair products, I can’t say that they do black people justice. The limited selection from two or three brands is enough to make me an eternal customer of afro hair shops, although I won’t deny the issues black women have faced with racial profiling whilst shopping.
I started making my own hair store trips when I cut off all my relaxed hair at the age of 14, rocking a TWA, also known as a teeny-weeny afro, whilst my natural curl pattern grew out. I loved the independence of doing my own hair and I felt more mature being the one responsible for my own wash days and stylings. It gave me a lot of confidence; while I know it isn't the experience for all black women, I received so much affirmation from the girls at my school on my hair.
The only sadness I felt was the shock from a few aunties who couldn’t believe I actually wanted to wear my hair out, and my discovery of texturism in black communities online where I came to realise my tight curls and coils weren’t appreciated by all people.
The sense of sisterhood I felt watching natural hair Youtubers like Naptural85, NICKYBNATURAL and Amber Ansah was incomparable. It was as if I had virtual older sisters within the natural hair community who made me feel seen and beautiful because of their own confidence with their hair and within themselves.
I loved seeing these women venture out into creating their own spaces in afro hair care, including the likes of Miko Branch with her brand Miss Jessie’s, Mahisha Dellinger with Curls and Monique Rodriguez with Mielle Organics. In the future, I hope to see more British black owned brands like Afrocenchix and Crown Pride Naturals gain just as much success. I would also like to see more black-owned hair stores with black women being the legitimate face of these places, ensuring that money is being invested directly into black communities.
As places of sanctuary, of aesthetic creativity and of growing economic success, I write this article in honour of all afro beauty stores and all the clip-ins, hair lotion, deep conditioners and wigs that have crowned the heads of black women across the UK.
Edited by Olivia Warburton